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...wind's breath, Aad stars to set ; — but a//, Thn hist a// seasons Car thine own— oh, Death ! Ii it when spring's first gale, Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie ! Is it when roses hi our path grow pale ! They him one season— я/í are ours to die ! Thou art where billows foam,...

...When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain — But who shall teach us when to look for thee ? Is...violets lie ? Is it when roses in our paths grow pale i They have one season — au are ours to die ! Thou art where billows foam, Thou art where music melts...

...golden grain — But who shall teach us when to look for thce ? Is it when spring's first gale Conies forth to whisper where the violets lie ? Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ? They have one season — all are ours to die 1 Thou art where billows foam, Thou art where music melts upon...

...When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain — But who shall teach us when to look for thee ? Is...whisper where the violets lie ? Is it when roses in our path grow pale ? They have one season — all are ours to die ! Thou art where billows foam, Thou art...

...wane, When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain— But who shall teach us when to look for thee ?—...Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ?— They have one season—all are ours to die ! Thou art where billows foam, Thou art where music melts upon...

...When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain — But who shall teach us when to look for thee ? —...Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ? — They have one season — all are ours to die ! • Thou art where billows foam, Thou art where music melts...

...When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain — But who shall teach us when to look for thee ? —...violets lie ? Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ? — f They have one season — all are ours to die ! Thou art where billows foam, Thou art where...

...When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain — But who shall teach us when to look for thee ?—...Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ? — They have one season — all are ours to die ! Thou art where billows foam, Thou art where music melts upon...

...When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain — But who shall teach us when to look for thee ? —...Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ? — They have one season — all are ours to die ! Thou art where billows foam ; Thou art where music melts...